Of Shortcuts and Golden Slumbers
by Karasuya
Summary: Once upon a midnight dreary, Roy seeks to borrow surcease of sorrow for the lost Edward Elric. Hints of Roy/Ed. Post 2003 series.


**I was inspired to write this ficlet while listening to the song, "Cornerstone", by the Arctic Monkeys.**

**The lyrics can be viewed at the very end of the story. **

**All credit for this piece I give to the Arctic Monkeys!**

* * *

"Where to, Chief?"

Roy glanced up to meet Havoc's inquiring blue gaze in the review mirror.

"Take me home, Lieutenant."

Roy then averted his eye towards the dark rain-spattered window and vaguely registered Havoc's reply.

"You got it, Sir."

Listening to the sound of the cold rain pattering against the surface of the car, Roy closed his eye, giving in to the familiar weariness that seemed to weigh down upon his mind and body more and more each day. It didn't help that he felt damp and chilled from the downpour, but also the comforting warm buzz he had acquired from a long evening of clinking glasses and rubbing elbows with the brass was now leaving him feeling listless and empty. He wanted nothing more than a warm shower to wash the bitter chill from his bones, and maybe if he was lucky he would still have enough alcohol left in his system for him to actually fall asleep tonight instead of having to face his usual insomnia. As Havoc pulled the car away from the curb, Roy decided the sooner he was home the better. While pulling on his seat-belt, Roy began suggesting a couple of shortcuts to Havoc, only to stop short when his breath caught in his throat.

Suddenly, the darkness of the night was not so oppressive, for he had caught a whiff of a scent that was a stark contrast to the dismal rain and the gloomy rumbling thunder. No, this aroma was of warm summer, of beaming rays of sunlight and golden sunflowers, like the brilliant golden sun itself!

_Like radiant golden hair, and rare flashing golden eyes—_

"Sir?"

Roy was jolted back to reality, where he was once again shrouded by the dreary darkness of the night and the bleak pelting of the rain. With an aching tightness growing in his chest, he cast a hasty glance around himself, searching and longing for any remaining traces of that blissful shinning vision. His futile hope faded as his eyesight only met dense shadows and the passing dim blurs of the streetlamps that lined the cold and lonely wet streets of Central.

"General?" Havoc attempted once again to get his superior's attention.

"What is it?" Roy replied sharply, irritated that his subordinate had so abruptly snatched him out of the inviting solace of his hallucination.

"You…you were telling me about some shortcuts I should take?"

Coming more out of his rapturous daze, Roy began to realize that he had stopped in mid-sentence while instructing Havoc to take the shortcuts that he knew so well. Roy began to recollect his thoughts as he turned to glower out into the murky night— and there it was again! As his seat-belt rubbed against his cheek, he caught that unmistakable balmy scent once more. Desperately hopeful that the aroma would not leave him again, Roy anxiously closed his eye and inhaled greedily.

The sound of falling rain and the constant roar of the engine began to fade as his head swam from the distinct blended fragrance of sunflowers, leather, and oil which lingered on the seat-belt. Every breath filled Roy with thrilling euphoric warmth, fueling his consciousness with vivid images of blazing red and gold, of honeyed skin and glinting metal, of a defiant gaze and a roguish grin. Now Roy could hear the tell-tale clap of flesh against metal, feel the static tingle from the escalating charge of energy in the air, and taste the oxidized tang of alchemy as it erupted in streams of blue and white reflected in two gleaming golden eyes. God,_ those eyes_! Like two entrancing golden windows to an extraordinary soul and mind far older than the youthful face they belonged to. Knowing eyes that have seen unimaginable spectacles and horrors of which most mortals do not even face in their darkest of dreams. Oh! And how those eyes _burn_. Burn with a fire hotter, fiercer, and more wild and brilliant than any flame in this world.

_"Tell me, what do those eyes of yours see now, Fullmetal?"_

"So…about those shortcuts, Sir?"

Jean Havoc watched as Roy Mustang blinked his eye dazedly and leaned his face against his seat-belt, looking less like a 32-year-old General and more like a sleepy child stuck on a long car ride. Then Roy closed his eye, sighed deeply, and answered in a gentle far-away tone,

"Take me the long way home."

* * *

**_I elongated my lift home_**  
**_Yeah, I let him go the long way 'round_**  
**_I smelt your scent on the seat belt_**  
**_And kept my shortcuts to myself_**


End file.
